


The Northstar

by Sword_of_Midnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_of_Midnight/pseuds/Sword_of_Midnight
Summary: When Tyrion plays the game of thrones Myrcella is sent to Dorne, not to Sunspear and Trystane Martell, but to Starfall and Jon Dayne.





	1. Tyrion I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm a novice writer and this is my first work in the Song of Ice and Fire universe. I'm not a native English writer so errors are to be expected. I'd like to ask my fellow readers to point any mistake I made in order for it to be corrected.  
> This is will be a main Jon/Myrcella fiction, but there's a real possibility of making it a multi-pairing. Some events were slightly changed, the reasoning of these changes will be presented at the end notes. So without any further ado I humbly present my work.

“Thank the gods; I haven’t had a proper shit in six days.” Tyrion said as he took a blue vial from Grand Maester Pycelle.

“I’ve encountered these problems before my lord, the stresses of power often have this insalubrious effect, take two drops with water daily and you’ll be fine.” The aged man said in a tired manner, bowing his head.

Seeing the opening he needed to test the Maester’s loyalty, Tyrion smiled, gesturing to a chair. “I’m so grateful to have a man of you vast knowledge and wisdom by my side.”

Pycelle quickly took the seat, under Tyrion’s inquisitive stare, and stood at his eye level.

“Thank you.”

“I can trust you Pycelle, can I not?”

“Yes of course.” The aged Maester said quickly.

“These are perilous times and the crown must forge new alliances, and these alliances must often be forged in matrimony.” Tyrion explained as Pycelle nodded

“Matrimony…yes…” Pycelle trailed

“I’m trusting the council with these plans, but the queen mustn’t know. I can’t have her meddling in affairs that could determine the future of the realm, there’s too much at stake.”

“Yes, yes I shall be silent as the grave.” Pycelle lied, but poorly as Tyrion easily saw through it.

The youngest son of Tywin already suspected Pycelle being the Queen’s informant at the Great Council, but he still couldn’t discard the possibilities of Baelish and Varys also being by his sister’s side.

“I’m brokering and alliance with House Martell of Dorne.” he said, pouring a goblet of wine. “Princess Myrcella will marry their youngest son when she comes of age, ensuring their support and their army should we need it.”

“Oh, Myrcella sent away to Dorne.” Pycelle babbled

“Yes, but the Queen mustn’t know.” Tyrion said, offering the goblet to Pycelle who eagerly accepted.

* * *

“I love conversations that begin with ‘the Queen mustn’t know.” The Master of Whisper, Varys announced.

Tyrion looked straight at the Eunuch’s eyes. Varys was a big question mark and event with his towering intellect he couldn’t decipher his personal agenda. In less than a two moons as acting Hand of the King, he learned that in the capital there’s no such thing as common interest, or the good of realm, it all revolved around personal interests. Not knowing what the Master of Whispers' goals were clearly put him on disadvantage.

“I plan to marry princess Myrcella to Theon Greyjoy.” He announced

“Theon Greyjoy… forgive me my lord but he grew up a ward of Eddard Stark and fights for Robb Stark.”

“Precisely, Balon Greyjoy loathes the Starks and will convince Theon to come to our side, we can destroy their army from within and have the Iron Fleet at our side, but remember…”

* * *

“…you mustn’t tell the Queen that I plan to marry Princess Myrcella off to Robyn Arryn of the Vale.” Tyrion explained, eyeing Littlefinger. “Lysa is not fond of me, but perhaps the promise of a royal match will convince her to let bygones be bygones.”

“She imprisoned you, tried to execute you, and you plan to offer her son a princess, your niece.” Littlefinger noted

“Men in our position can’t hold grudges.” He explained with a shrug.

“I assume you want me to broker this agreement.”

“Who's better than you for this task?”

Littlefinger got up his seat, looking towards the window.

“I could sing this song to Lysa, but what’s in return for me?”

_“It all revolves around personal interests.”_

“The Castle of Harrenhal and the Lordship of the Riverlands.”

Littlefinger’s slick smile told Tyrion that his plan was set in motion.

“Remember, the Queen mustn’t know.”

* * *

Tyrion sat at his study analyzing the finances of the realm, as acting Hand of the King and it was his duty to try to keep things in control. Unfortunately it was easier said than done, the scars from Robert’s Rebellion still crippled the realm’s economy and the late king’s expenses only dug a deeper hole.  Some trade agreements were overly unbalanced, result of the corruption from within, a good example was the Iron Throne buying grains from the Westerlands as opposed to the Reach, whose offer was cheaper and in higher quantity. He was about to read a letter sent by Jon Dayne of Starfall, regarding a trade agreement when Cersei invaded his office.

“You monster, Myrcella is my only daughter. Do you really think I’ll let you sell her as a common whore?” she accused him angrily

“Myrcella is a princess, some would say she was born for this.”

“I’ll not let you ship her off to Dorne of all places.” His sister said threateningly

“Dorne is the safest place to her.” He replied firmly, but hiding a hint of doubt in his own statement.

“The Martell’s loathe us. She will be killed.”

Tyrion hated Cersei, or better put, Cersei hated Tyrion and the later only reciprocated those feelings, but now the dwarf couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards his sister. He would love Cersei’s children despite her poor treatment of him, the fact that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen  also happened to be children of his brother Jaime, his only close family member that didn’t  hated him also added to his sympathy towards his nephews.

Joffrey was a cunt, but Myrcella and Tommen were truly sweet children, and by no means should be tormented to the cruelty of the world.

“Cersei” Tyrion said sympathetically “I’m only trying to finish the war your son started by beheading Ned Stark.”

“You think yourself might just because you have a piece of paper that father gave you? Ned Stark also had a piece of paper.” Cersei snarled, before storming off the room.

Tyrion sighed, as he returned to his seat, opening the letter.

“Jon Dayne, Lord of Starfall, sounds familiar somehow, I feel like I’m missing something…” he muttered to himself before reading the letter.

* * *

Shae barged into the room, awaking Tyrion who fell asleep at the desk.

“I waited for you at bed.” She noted

Tyrion had the decency to look ashamed.

However before he opened his mouth to apologize, he heard Shae chuckling. He then felt something stuck at his cheek. He sighed tiredly, taking the letter that was glued to his right side.

“Royal Pardon or Marriage agreement?” Shae inquired

“Neither, trade proposal.” He explained

“Unfair one?”

“Actually it’s very fair, I don’t know why it wasn’t accepted before.” Tyrion said, remembering the contents of the letter. "Lord Dayne wrote to the crown offering a shipment of olives for a fairly reasonable price, and explained his intention to grow oranges and lemons at his lands, however to do so he needed an investment first, so he asks the crown for a loan, which would be repaid at increased rates as the newly cultivated goods would be sold to The Reach and the South of the Stormlands."  

“By the way, a raven came from the south, I think it sounds important.” Shae said, handing a letter to him.

Tyrion took the letter, silently opening and skimming through it. His eyes widened.

“Renly Baratheon is dead.”

* * *

 

The news of Renly’s  death caused a change of Tyrion’s plans. The Tyrells accused Stannis of murdering the pretender, opting to recall their bannerman, instead of supporting Stannis claim to the throne. The political reasoning behind this was the Tyrell's ever present ambition to have their lineage at the Iron Throne, which wouldn’t be possible with Stannis. Even worst, he was married to Selyse Florent, whose family was a long enemy of the Tyrells, claiming Highgarden in the grounds of their closest relation to the extinct House Gardner.

Now he set aside his plans of marrying Myrcella for the moment, as he planned on breaking the betrothal of Sansa and Joffrey in order to marry the king to Margaery, bringing the Reach into the fold alongside their 50 000 men and their grain. He even considered proposing a match between Myrcella and Willas but dismissed the thought as it could be more interesting to have the princess as a plan B of sorts.

This of course could also provide a small chance of making peace with the North by returning Sansa to the Starks. Even if this didn’t happened he could always raise one of the younger Stark sons to Lord Paramount and ward them in Casterly Rock or King’s Landing.

As he analyzed the map at his table he kept thinking of the matter with Dorne. He definitively didn’t want to send Myrcella to the Viper’s nest but Dorne could open rebellion. If they attacked they would strike the Reach as they wouldn’t want to ally with Stannis for obvious reasons.

Should Dorne attack the Reach wouldn’t be able to provide the much needed armies  to crush Robb and Stannis, demolishing his entire plan.

His eyes then stopped at a point in the map: Starfall, ancestral seat of House Dayne.

Recalling his history lessons with the Maester at the Rock he remembered studying Dorne.

Starfall was situated in an island at the Torrentine river, which was practically impassable because of the water’s speed and the natural formations, it dutifully guarded Dorne from attacks coming from the Reach, but also served as a rally point, it was said that a Dayne King once sacked Oldtown, the biggest city of the continent at the time.

_“As long as the Daynes are sworn to the Martells an attack from the Reach will be futile… but what if they weren’t?”_

Suddenly the gears at Tyrion’s head began to form his biggest gamble.

* * *

The next day Tyrion had Pycelle imprisoned for disclosing his plans with Cersei. After questioning him he was leaving the dungeons when he glanced at one of the cells.

He approached the cell and glanced at his tenant, he made no motion to approach the bars, being slumped at the wall. As he closed the distance he sadly noticed that the prisoner wasn’t  being properly fed.

“Lord Hand.” The man acknowledged weakly.

“Ser Barristan.” 

Tyrion, alongside several of the lords disagreed with the treatment of Barristan. The legendary knight rebelled against Joffrey when his Kingsguard status was revoked, being charged of treason. His nephew wanted to execute him publicly, but the council prevented that from happening. Barristan was loved by the smallfolk and an execution of such a important figure would only serve to weaken Joffrey’s rule and earn even more hate from the Stormlanders.

His fame and respect by almost the entire Westeros was justified. The old knight entered a tourney as a mystery knight when he was only ten, jousting against Prince Duncan Targaryen, earning the epithet “the Bold”. Six years later he earned knighthood from Aegon V Targaryen after defeating both Prince Duncan and Duncan “the Tall”, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He also was famed for slaying Maelys the Monstrous, during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, ending the line of the Blackfyre Pretenders. He then earned the White Cloak, serving under two Targaryen Kings and Robert.

Tyrion however wasn’t interested in those feats, instead remembering his brother talking to him about the Tourney at Harrenhal.

_“Prince Rhaegar fought Barristan the Bold at the last joust of the tourney. Barristan planned to crown Lady Ashara Dayne as Queen of Love and Beauty, but was unhorsed by Rhaegar, who crowned Lyanna Stark, thus indirectly starting the Rebellion.”_

“I’d like to hear a story.” Tyrion announced.

“This is an odd request, but I’ll give in anyway, I fear I don’t have too much to do anyway.” Barristan replied. “Which one would you like to hear? The Defiance of Dukensdale, the War of the Ninepenny Kings?”

“No, I’d like to hear about Harrenhal and Lady Ashara Dayne.”

Barristan eyes widened , before he adopted a saddened expression.

“This was my biggest failure, if I defeated Rhaegar perhaps the war could have been averted, perhaps Ashara wouldn’t sire a bastard.”

“A bastard?” Tyrion asked, he didn’t remembered anything about a bastard of Dayne, until it clicked. ”You’re talking about Jon Dayne.”

“Yes, nothing against the boy, but Ashara deserved more.”

“Who’s the father?”

“The quiet wolf.”

Tyrion took a deep breath.

“Ned Stark has a bastard?”

“Yes, a legitimized one, hence why he’s Jon Dayne not Jon Sand. Robert legitimized him at Eddard’s behest, although his inheritance to Winterfell was set aside.”

“What do you know of him? I’ve tried to research but there’s not much information about him.”

“Never seen him personally, Robert once said he looks like a copy of Eddard, although his eyes were similar to Ashara’s. What I know Ashara inherited Starfall after father died at the Trident, Ashara being pregnant at the time. When Jon was born King Robert legitimized him under the instructions of Jon Arryn and by his sheer affection for Eddard Stark, but it wasn’t a very acknowledged fact as Eddard wanted to keep him secret and Dorne itself went isolationist after Elia’s death. Ashara groomed Jon to be her heir and she abdicated to him about two or three years ago.”

“Anything else that you consider noteworthy?”

“He’s the second most hated man in Dorne.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a son of the man who helped Robert dethrone Rhaegar and kill Elia Martell and her children, and nephew of the woman who seduced Rhaegar.” Barristan explained a bit angrily

“Ned wasn’t present when the Lannister troops sacked King’s Landing and Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark.” Tyrion deadpanned

“Still their Lords believe that, things went as far as some of the Dornish traditional houses refusing to negotiate with Starfall, as a way to boycott Jon Dayne.”

“That explains why he offered cheaper olives in the letter.” Tyrion said more to himself than to Barristan. “He plans to disrupt the economy of the major Dornish houses instead of vying profit, a clever move since he establishes contact with the crown and opens markets in the Crowlands and Westerlands.”

Barristan clearly didn’t had any idea of the letter Tyrion mentioned, but contributed anyway. “I’ve heard that Starfall has fierce enemies in houses such as Wyl, Yronwood and Qorgyle.”

“Which also sell olives to the crown.” Tyrion concluded

“A clever strategy.” Barristan complimented. “Weakens his rivals whilst strengthening his own position.”

“How old is he?”

“He was born in the end of the rebellion, so fifteen I guess.”

Tyrion nodded, his brain already making a plan.

“Ser Barristan, I think I can offer you an interesting proposition.”

* * *

The Imp collapsed at his bed in the Hand’s Tower after a session of lovemaking with Shae.

“You are worried.” It was more a statement than a question really.

“You can say so.” He said grimly

“Is this about Myrcella being sent to Sunspear?”

Tyrion looked surprised at his lover’s knowledge of the matter. “How do…?”

Shae shrugged “Cersei was pretty vocal in expressing her discontent, I just happened to be nearby.

“I wish I didn’t had to do this.” He admitted. “Myrcella is only twelve, she wasn’t supposed to be sold off like a broodmare, but I fear we need allies, or at least someone who doesn’t want to outright defy us.”

“There is no other way?”

“I could’ve betrothed her to Robyn Arryn but after my last visit at The Vale I fear I’m not very well liked there.”

Not very well liked was a big understatement, in fact if Tyrion somehow dropped dead today he was sure there would be a great feast in the Vale, after all he mocked the honor of the Knights of the Vale, and his champion slew one of theirs in cold blood. In his opinion this was all Catelyn Stark’s fault, she was the one who imprisoned him based on very circumstantial evidence, but The Vale, historically friendly with The North wouldn’t see things that way.

“So you fear they might hurt her just for being your relative.”

“Joffrey does the same to Sansa Stark each and every time her brother defeats our armies at the Riverlands.”

“But you fear the boyto be like that?”

“I don’t think he is, but her mother is truly mad, he sucks at her teats even being already nine years old. Besides, there’s always Littlefinger.”

The affair the Master of Coin had with the Lady Regent of the Vale was also a huge detainer of betrothing Myrcella to Robyn. Littlefinger was the regent of the place in all but name, and it sickened Tyrion to think what the brothel owner could do to her.

“Since The Vale is out of question why resist sending her to Dorne?”

“Because I don’t know them, ever since the rebellion they took little interest in matters of the Kingdom, in fact I’m not even sure about rules the place.”

This caused Shae to raise her eyebrows.

“There were some rumors floating around of Prince Doran dying, while I doubt them to be truthful I assume his health deteriorated a lot to spark those kind of rumor, which leads to the inheritance problem too.” The Imp suddenly got up, heading to a side table in order to pour himself some wine. “There are some strong rumors of Doran disinheriting her eldest daughter in order to appoint his middle son as heir. The two siblings hate each other openly and Doran’s relationship with her daughter is cold at the best. Some people even say Doran will disinherit the two of them and appoint his youngest, favored son as successor.”

“So why don’t you wait in order to get a better match for her?”

“Due to my stupid nephew’s actions, the throne is weak, and we are in no position to deny some houses without disrupting our relations. Even the Freys who would never deny a prospect of a match with a Great House now seem to be pushing for a better betrothal with our House, probably involving Myrcella or Tommen.”

“You’re trying to at least get something in return rather than a one-sided agreement.” It was once again more a statement than a question.

“Exactly.”

“Can I give you an honest advice?” Shae asked

“Of course.”

“No marriage pact is valid if the bride is dead.”

Tyrion nodded grimly taking a huge sip of his wine, and for the remainder of the night, Shae’s words lingered in his head.

* * *

Three days after his talk with Shae, Tyrion entered his solar only to come face to face with Tywin Lannister.

“Father, what a pleasant surprise.” He said sarcastically, facing the stern gaze of the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Cut the bullshit Tyrion, I’ve came here to prevent you from marrying my granddaughter to a sworn enemy.”

“Cersei…” Tyrion muttered

“I’ve worked  to restore our house honor for more than thirty years, and when I finally have my blood at the Iron Throne you seem eager to hand your niece to the Martells.”

“An enemy made when you ordered the Mountain to kill Elia and her children.” Tyrion added.

“Be quiet.” His father hissed. “I forbid you of sending my blood as a hostage.”

Tyrion then grinned.

“I don’t plan on marrying Myrcella to the Martells. Dorne, yes, but to House Dayne of Starfall.”

His father seemed a bit taken aback. “What’s the point of marrying a princess to a lesser lord?”

Tyrion then unfurled a map of the southern Westeros, which featured Dorne, the Reach and the Dornish Marches.

“I assume you’re planning on making an alliance with the Tyrells.” Seeing his father nod, Tyrion pointed to Starfall on the map. “This is the seat of house Dayne, it protects Dorne from an possible attack from the Reach. The Torrentine river is impassable without the use of boats, and Dorne has no fleet.”

“You plan on using Starfall to guard the Reach instead.” Tywin said.

“Yes.”

“But a marriage with the Reach is still required to cement the alliance, we can’t give up the match between Sansa and Joffrey as we still need to hold the North after the Young Wolf is killed. So we will need Myrcella to marry one of the Tyrell sons.”

“Not necessarily. If we don’t put a Tyrell at the royal line we would only be postponing the problem, there might even be a risk of the Tyrells revolting against Joffrey and Sansa’s child to install one of their own at the throne.”

“But the North…”

“Jon Dayne was born Jon Sand, son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne.”

Tywin’s eyes widened at the implication.

“He has a claim to the North.”

“Exactly, should he prove himself loyal we can install our own blood at the North, with a stronger claim than any of Sansa’s children would have.”

For a moment Tyrion could swear he saw pride in Tywin’s gaze, but it quickly was replaced by indifference.

“Send the ravens to this Jon Dayne, propose a betrothal between him and Myrcella, with the marriage being held in two years, it will buy us time to handle the revolts without having to deal with Dorne. If we need to secure another alliance we could simply recall Myrcella and leave Jon cornered in Starfall.”

Tyrion nodded. “I’ll write the proposal right away.”

* * *

Tyrion looked at his handwork proudly, most of people would think that writing a letter was easy, but it was quite much the opposite. To him it was about giving meaning and reasoning to the words he wrote, giving credibility to his offer or demands.  While addressing Lords he had to be even more careful as they could even interpret a simple thing, such a shortened sentence as a threat or as an offense.

> _To Lord Jon Dayne of Starfall,_
> 
> _I write in behalf of King Joffrey I Baratheon as a response to the previously sent letter regarding the offer you made to the crown regarding olives. The terms are acceptable but I’m afraid we can’t spare any extra continuous costs as the realm is at war now._
> 
> _Changing the subject it came to my attention that several of the prominent Dornish Houses are embargoing House Dayne due to some foolish reasoning. The King sees this as an effort to hinder the growth of the region of Torrentine and Starfall and instead proposes the following terms:_
> 
> _*House Lannister will loan 5.000 Dragons immediately to House Dayne, the currency is to be used to grow of Lemons and Oranges._
> 
> _*House Dayne will pay the loan to House Lannister through interests from the sales of the before mentioned products._
> 
> _*The Iron Throne will give tax concessions to House Dayne, worth 1.000 Dragons_
> 
> _*House Dayne will agree to give free passage through the Torrentine to the forces loyal to the Iron Throne._
> 
> _*House Dayne will be tasked to preventing forces coming from the east of attacking The Reach._
> 
> _*This agreement will be sealed by the marriage of Lord Jon Dayne of Starfall and Princess Myrcella Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms of the Iron Throne._
> 
> _*Princess Myrcella will be fostered in Starfall as a show of god faith, but the marriage will only take place after she is four and ten._
> 
> _*The betrothal will be broken if any of the terms above aren’t meet._
> 
> _We expect these terms to be of your liking._
> 
> _Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King_

After he finished rereading the letter he called his squire, Podrick Payne.

“Podrick, send this to Starfall.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things were slightly altered in this AU.  
> Myrcella will be 12 instead of 9 as in the book canon, most of the characters however will have their original ages kept, and if someone has his age changed I'll make it clear beforehand.  
> The Dayne family tree was slightly changed.  
> Arthos Dayne was the fathered Arthur, Ashara, Vorian (Edric's father) and Allyria, in this order, so it was Ashara who inherited after he died at war. Arthos' wife was from House Blackmont.  
> Ashara became Lady of Starfall shortly before Jon's birth.  
> Vorian married a Lady from the Westerlands and died shortly after fathering Edric.  
> In this story both Arthos and Vorian's wives died at childbirth;  
> Any other important notes will be posted at the beginning and end notes, remember to leave a review.


	2. Barristan I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading the awesome reviews from the last chapter I took advantage of a free day and some inspiration to get Chapter 2 done, please enjoy.

_“Don’t do something you might regret”_

This was a proverb that always found space at Barristan's mind, however at the tender age of three and sixty, the former Kingsguard found himself regretting not doing those somethings. As the ship sailed towards Starfall he looked at the ceiling of his quarters, thinking of his biggest regrets.

He regretted not stopping the Mad King of raping Queen Rhaella. He regretted not coming clean of his feelings to Ashara. He regretted staying at Westeros instead of sailing to Essos to find the True King. He regretted opting to recover at Harvest Hall instead of King’s Landing when the Lannisters sacked the city. He regretted not opposing to the tyrannical execution of Eddard Stark.

He didn’t regretted insulting the Boy King however, even if it earned him a less than pleasant stay at the dungeons. Barristan expected to be executed, instead he was just left to rot. And left to rot he would be still if it weren’t for Tyrion's offer. A simple deal, escort the Princess to Starfall and earn freedom in return, although he was banned from ever setting his foot at the capital once again. A royal pardon, in exchange for more than fifty years serving the realm. And his last task as a Kingsguard.

Officially he was already discharged from the office of Lord Commander, but he was protecting a member of the Royal family, a Kingsguard job nonetheless. Tyrion wisely opted for sending him instead of Orys Oakheart to escort Myrcella to Jon Dayne's castle. The bad blood between Daynes and Oakhearts; representing Dorne and Reach respectively; was older than the Seven Kingdoms, and it would do no good idea to have the Princess escorted by a member of a house which had a deep hatred of her future husband.

Whilst he openly despised Joffrey, he had no hate against the Princess, in fact she alongside Prince Tommen were amongst the few people he liked at the capital. With curly blonde hair and emerald green eyes the princess resembled Queen Cersei in looks but her gentle and compassionate nature wasn’t inherited from her mother; or from her father, being him Robert or Jaime, either.

“Here, eat this.” The girlish voice of the princess drew his attention, he turned to the princess who offered him a piece of bread.

“I was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.” Barristan said

“You can’t protect me if you’re weak.” She remarked bluntly

Barristan said nothing; he knew the princess was right, he mumbled a thank you as he took the bread taking a bite. The knight didn’t knew for how long he was imprisoned, but it clearly took a toll at his health, his arms thinned as he lost weight, he even feared that he wouldn’t be able to properly protect the princess if they suffered an attack.

As he chewed the bread he glanced at the princess, she looked a bit distant.  Suddenly she turned to him “How long for us to reach Starfall?”

Barristan shrugged. “Three or four days.”

“Have you ever been there?” She asked

Barristan swallowed the remains of the bread. “No, but Ser Arthur Dayne, a fellow Kingsguard was born there. He said that the castle was beautiful and very well protected.”

The princess kept quiet for some minutes, before turning to Barristan again.

“What is he like? My future husband I mean.”

“I never met him, but I’ve met her mother and father.”

“He is really a bastard?”

“Aye, but was legitimized by your father at the behest of Lord Stark.”

“Do you think he hates me?”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because my brother killed his father.”

“Judging a person for his family mistakes is foolish.” Barristan said, painfully remembering receiving the news about the demises of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon. His biggest pain and regret, which would accompany him to his grave.

_“I should’ve stayed at the Red Keep.”_

“But he might hate me, what if he hears about what Joff did to Sansa? Will he beat me up too?” She asked insecurely and with fear in her eyes.

“First, I’d kill him if he hurt you in any way, consequences be damned. Second I doubt he’s like Joffrey. He managed to impress your uncle with a single letter, and I doubt a son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne to be the kind of person to beat defenseless girls.”

“Ashara Dayne… that’s his mother, what she’s like?”

“Ashara is the prettiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms.” Barristan said with confidence. “She was a lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Dorne. She met Eddard at Harrenhal, rumors say that they were supposed to marry if Brandon Stark wasn’t killed by King Aerys.”

“Sounds sad…”

“It is…” Barristan agreed.

Barristan himself was eager to meet Jon Dayne, he had several reasons to be. He wanted to know if he was as honorable as his father, he wanted to see if the nephew of Ser Arthur had inherited any of his prowess with a sword, and most of all he wanted to see the son of Ashara.

“Princess, don’t worry, Jon sounds like a good man, otherwise you uncle wouldn’t have agreed to the match.”

“Thanks.” The princess said half-heartedly, Barristan sighed knowing that she would only be reassured when she met Jon personally.

* * *

 

“It’s so pretty!” Myrcella exclaimed with glee as the ship neared the Castle of Starfall.  

Barristan glanced at the castle from the deck of the ship and had to agree with Princess. The castle was built on a stony island formation with the keep being situated at the highest part of the island. In a military viewpoint Starfall was nearly impenetrable, the pointy rocks at the river alongside the strong current from the Torrentine would easily wreck ships commanded by unaware admirals. Besides the treacherous waters, any enemy would suffer heavy causalities after disembarking at the island as the towers of the castle were heavily manned. The rough terrain also would break momentum from any force heading towards the keep and would provide easy targets for the archers manning the towers.   

Architecturally speaking the castle was a pleasant one to look at, with white walls and purple roof tiles, making allusion to the colors of House Dayne. There was symmetry at the placement of the towers and gates, and the river provided a somewhat pleasant smell as opposed to the putrid scent of King’s Landing. 

As the sip neared the port Barristan glanced at the unmistakable coat of arms of the House Dayne. A white sword, cutting the trail of a falling white star, under a pale lilac background. He squinted his eyes in order to see the faces of the group waiting for them, and felt his heart quicken as he recognized one Ashara Dayne.

As they disembarked with Myrcella trailing behind him, he finally could admire Ashara’s beauty.  Still at her earlier thirties she matured, but held her delicate features, her skin was still in the same milky pale tone which mesmerized him seventeen years ago. Her long silky black hair was braided in her left shoulder and her violet eyes were vibrant as ever. She held a serious expression but softened once she spotted the knight. She wore a purple dress, not as revealing as the ones donned by other Dornishwomen but still less conservative than the ones used at court at King’s Landing.

“Ser Barristan, I didn’t expected you to be the escort.”

Barristan, slightly blushing couldn’t form words at her presence so he just stepped aside, revealing the Princess. Myrcella didn’t braided her hair, letting if fall as curly blonde curtains at her shoulders and opted to wear a light green dress, with a similar style to those from her mother.

Ashara opened a wide smile.

“You must be my future daughter-in-law, you’re so pretty.” She complimented

Myrcella cheeks tinged pink. “Thanks, my lady.”

Ashara waved a hand dismissively. “No need to be formal dear, we’re going to be family soon, call me Ashara.”

Barristan smile at the exchange, Myrcella was sent alone to Starfall, with her handmaiden Rosamund being sent from Lannisport, thus leaving the Princess alone for a while. For him it seemed like Ashara would go out of her way to make Myrcella settle in quickly.

For the next hour Ashara acted as guide of sorts to the duo, presenting the village within the walls. As they entered the castle Barristan caught sight of a small boy, no older than two and ten, running around. The boy, with pale wavy blond hair and blue, almost purple, eyes, somewhat remembered him a bit of Arthur.

“Edric.” Ashara called attracting the boy’s attention

“Edric, those are Princess Myrcella Baratheon, betrothed to your cousin Jon and her protector Ser Barristan Selmy.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he was at Barristan’s face, or chest considering the height difference in a second.

“Ser Barristan, I’m your fan, did you fight alongside my uncle? He was better than Rhaegar? Could you teach me some moves? Can you spar with my cousin Jon? I want to see who’s better.” He said with impressive speed firing question after question at the knight, and pretty much ignoring the fair princess beside the former Kingsguard.

“Edric!” Ashara scolded

“Sorry, I got a bit excited.” He said blushing and rubbing the back of his neck

“We can talk at dinner.” Barristan offered in a conciliatory fashion, earning more enthused statements from Edric. As he was bombarded by questions and statements from Edric he could hear Ashara sigh, turning to Myrcella.

“This is my nephew Edric, he’s Jon cousin.” She explained, earning a nod from Myrcella.

“I think it’s time for you to meet your betrothed. Edric, where’s Jon?”

“At the courtyard.” Edric said before once again bombarding the aged ears of Barristan.

Ashara led the trio through the castle, stopping by to speak with Myrcella sometimes, with the very deaf Barristan trailing behind, accompanied by the ever enthusiastic Edric behind. As they climbed a stair leading to a balcony which had a view of the courtyard, Barristan had his first glance at Jon Dayne.

Jon was with his backs turned to their group but the knight could easily distinguish him from the others bystanders due to his clothes and build. At his first glance Barristan noticed the wavy brown hair, similar to Ned Stark’s and his physical build, slender and lean was also akin to Eddard’s. His facial features were still unrecognizable as he kept his attention turned to the five men at his front. He opted to wear northern combat gear, characterized by the lack of armor, with black boots, black pants and a white long-sleeved tunic, covered by a boiled leather black vest. He leaned at steel sword with simple, black hilt held in his right hand while another sword was rested at a scabbard at his left hip. 

Besides the five men who surrounded the Lord of Starfall in a semicircle, the courtyard was packed with servants. Maids glanced at Jon’s figure lustfully while children pointed at him and looked at wonder.

“Come with intent to kill.” He said in a firm tone, which sounded like Ned’s but with a Stone Dornish accent as he unsheathed the second sword.

Suddenly Edric, who had been talking nonstop since being introduced to Barristan stopped and looked at Jon as a student looks at his teacher.

As the five men lunged forward, each one brandishing steel weapons, Barristan instinctively directed a hand at his sword’s hilt, but was stopped by Ashara.

“They are edgeless.” She informed him

The two men at the extremities of the circle tried to flank Jon but he masterfully avoided the right strike, while parrying the left one. Losing no time at all, Jon quickly used his right sword to strike the men at the right flank across the chest, effectively knocking him out . As the three men in the center lunged forward Jon quickly left the corner where he was pressured, heading toward the left, while dodging and parrying strikes with the two swords. To Barristan was like seeing Arthur once again, the deadliest knight in the seven kingdoms rarely was hurt and his strikes were usually counterattacks rather than offensive moves. Unlike Arthur, who wielded the greatsword Dawn, Jon opted for two bastard swords of similar length, which provided more versatility and defense in detriment of the bigger range. Soon another attacker was down, he overextended a strike and was hit by a painful slash at his chest, taking the breath out of him.

Once again surrounded, Jon spent the next minutes precisely evading the strikes from the three swordsmen with little effort. He surprised Barristan once more when he pushed one of the attackers against the other, knocking the two down, leaving the other alone, then in a ferocious fashion he went on the offensive, disarming the man and putting the sword at his neck.

“I yield.” He announced with Jon’s sword at his neck, and left the encirclement in which the spar was held.

The previously knocked down attackers got up and hovered near Jon, who started to spin his swords in a protective manner.

_“Another of Arthur’s trademark moves.”_

The remaining duo were certainly the most talented amongst the five which attacked Jon, as their attacks were coordinated, and often prevented Jon from finishing the other as he had to change his position to defend too. But as Jon parried one of the slashes he ducked the incoming strike instead of parrying, so the sword stopped short of the previous assailant neck. The two attackers cursed as they felt Jon’s swords pointing at their necks from bellow. 

“Please drop your weapons.” He asked, to which the duo quickly agreed.

Soon cheers and claps echoed through the courtyard, maids and servants whispered while the children chanted enthusiastically. “Northstar! Northstar! Northstar!”

After helping each of his opponents up and whispering something, Barristan thought to be reviews about their performances, he nodded to the crowd and turned around to face the balcony where his family stood for the first time.

Jon’s facial features clearly were inherited from his father, if weren’t from his violet eyes some could argue he was exactly a copy of Eddard Stark. His eyes, whilst violet didn’t were the same vibrant color as Ashara’s , instead being more light colored, but he was still a handsome young man. The blush creeping through Myrcella cheeks seemed to confirm his previous statement.

Soon Edric sprinted to Jon, giving him a towel, which the young Lord Dayne accepted and ruffled his cousin’s hair in gratitude.

Ashara led him and Myrcella through another set of stairs, this time conducting them to the courtyard and Jon Dayne.

“Jon, met your betrothed, Princess Myrcella Baratheon.” She said pretty much shoving Myrcella towards Jon.

Jon chuckled at his mother’s antics, before kissing Myrcella’s hand.

“My lady, I welcome you to Starfall.” He said solemnly.

Myrcella blushed even more, mumbling a thank you.

“Jon” Ashara said, drawing his attention once again “this is Myrcella’s guardian, Ser Barristan Selmy.” She announced, glancing at him.

“Ser Barristan, it’s an honor to host such a famed knight in my castle.” He said offering his hand.

Barristan shook his hand, his grip was similar to Arthur’s. “I’m glad to be here.”

* * *

The rest of the day was pretty much normal, with Ashara, and her sister, Allyria, a woman with similar features as Ashara, but with slightly tanned skin and less comely features, showing Myrcella the castle, and Edric once again bombarding him with questions about his battles. Jon asked to be excused as he had to administer the castle and send some ravens, but promised to join the group on supper.

The group was at the dining hall, with Ashara, Myrcella and Allyria at one side and Barristan and Edric at the other. Barristan, much to his pleasure sat across Ashara, while Edric sat across Allyria. Myrcella was flanked by the older women and at her front was the seat Jon was supposed to sit, but he was nowhere to be seen.

After a few minutes Lord Dayne barged into the room, wearing simple Purple clothes and looking tired.

“Hard day at work?” Edric teased

Jon sighed “Fucking Qorgyles and their stupid claims.”

“Language.” Ashara hissed. “Your betrothed is here.”

Jon then glanced at Myrcella, letting out a tired smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She said

Jon then sat across Myrcella and proceeded to eat his meal. The food was good and not overly luxurious as in King’s Landing, and Barristan ate to his heart’s content. Much to his dismay Myrcella decided to insist him to eat more to regain the lost weight, not only embarrassing him, but bringing Allyria and Ashara to her fold. Jon and Edric seemed to be amused by the exchange but didn’t join the girls.

“You were saying something about Qorgyle claims, Jon.” Ashara said in an attempt to make small talk.

“Yeah, that old dog Quentyn Qorgyle sent a raven claiming rightful ownership over some of our lands, threatening to go to Prince Doran if we don’t return the lands alongside a sum of Dragons.”

“So, what was your response?” she asked curiously

“Things which can’t be said in the presence of a Princess” he said glancing at Myrcella “or a small boy.” He said turning to Edric

“Hey, I’m one and ten.” He yelled indignantly.

“You shouldn’t insult lords like that.”  Ashara replied.

“He said bad things in the letter, about me…you…Lord Stark…” he trailed off awkwardly. It caught Barristan’s attention that Jon didn’t refer to Ned Stark as his father. “Anyway it doesn’t matters,  Prince Doran won’t do anything, as usual.” He said the last part with an eye roll.

“But on the bright side I received word from Lady Larra Blackmont, they agreed with the construction of the dam, now I just need the approval of the one who shall not be named.” Jon said earning some chuckles from her mother and aunt and a full blown laughter from Edric.

Jon then turned to him and Myrcella, both clearly didn’t understanding the inside joke. “My first cousin once removed, Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage, I can’t say we’re on the best of terms.” He explained

“But the dam will benefit him too.” Ashara pointed

“Aye, it will, but Gerold wouldn’t accept free gold just because I’m the one giving it to him.” Jon replied.

“We plan to build a dam at the Torrentine River in order to get more farmable land.” Jon further explained to both of them.

 After dinner was finished Jon turned to his mother.

“Could you please take care of things for me? I’d like to talk with Ser Barristan in private.”

“Sure thing.”

“Ser Barristan” he said turning to the knight “please walk with me”. The former Kingsguard nodded and trailed behind Jon until they reached a door at the end of a hall.

Jon silently opened the door, revealing a study.

The room was pretty simple and small, with a mahogany desk and three chairs, including the lord’s.  At the corner of the room there was a bookshelf.

“I’d like to formally thank you for escorting my betrothed.” He said sincerely

“It was nothing, my lord.”

“Tyrion Lannister sent a raven explaining your situation, so I’d like to ask you where you’re planning to go next.”

“I honestly don’t know.”

That was a lie, Barristan planned on returning to the service of the rightful rulers of Westeros, while at the ship he overhead some of the crew claiming Viserys was dead, even if this was true he still planned on going to Essos and pledge his sword to Daenerys Targaryen.

If Jon saw through the lie, he didn’t show. “If that’s the case I’d like to offer the extended hospitality of House Dayne, you can stay here as long as you like.”

Barristan was ready to deny, when Jon looked straight in his eyes.

“I know you must have lots of plans, but I’d like to ask you, not as Lord Dayne, but as the future husband to Princess Myrcella that you stay here. Mother and aunt are making the possible to help her settle in, but I believe that the presence of a familiar face would help her even more.” He explained

“Okay, I guess I can stay for a fortnight or two.”

Jon let out a smile at his words. “Thank you, Ser Barristan.”

“It’s no problem.” And it truly wasn’t, Jon’s point was valid and Barristan would truly feel bad just leaving Myrcella alone.

Jon suddenly got up. “Now for the second part of our conversation.” He said as he pulled the bookshelf, showing a hidden door behind.   

Barristan wordlessly followed the Lord of Starfall through a narrow passageway; Jon took a torch from a holder on the walls and proceeded to guide Barristan.

The passageway as Barristan presumed was as old as the castle, as the walls and the stairs were made of the same stone as the walls of the keep. When they neared a lit up room Jon proceeded to speak.

“I take pride in my swordsmanship skills, mother says I’ve been wielding a sword ever since I was old enough to crawl. As a squire to my uncle Vorian I never lost a fight, even when fighting one of the Tyrell siblings.”

Barristan’s opinion of Jon as a humble person began to change after these words.

“I’m not gloating” he said as if he read his thoughts “people say I can fight with any kind of sword, and I wish this was true, but it isn’t it.” He said as he entered the room

The room was a very spacious one, perhaps as large as the throne room at King’s Landing. And the lack of furniture only increased the notion of largeness.

Suddenly a white figure emerged from the darkness, motioning towards Jon, who stared at it intently.

As the light finally lit the figure Barristan saw a white direwolf with red eyes.

Jon knelt to the ground patting the wolf’s head and rubbing his ears.

“That’s a direwolf.” Barristan said, remembering the trueborn Stark children having a few pups too.

“He’s called Ghost.”  

The name made a lot of sense, the pup was still small for direwolf parameters, but was already as big as a large hunting dog, but he moved silently and all white, as a ghost of sorts.

“I was afraid he would scare Myrcella so I tasked him with guarding this room he explained.”

“How…” Barristan began to form the question only to be cut short by Jon

“I’ve already been North.” He explained

“I see, he is related to your siblings’ direwolves?”

“Siblings…” he muttered. “Oh the Starks you mean.” he said after some seconds of hesitation. “I never met my half siblings, or my father for that matter, I didn’t even knew there were other direwolves besides Ghost.” He said once again rubbing Ghost’s ears, causing the direwolf to waggle his tail happily.

“But how you went North then?”

“My uncle Benjen, he is the First Ranger of the Night’s Watch, we write to each other quite often, although I’m still awaiting for his next raven then.” He commented the last part in an upset manner, before remembering he was accompanied. “Anyway, I went to the wall some months ago to visit him, and on the way back to Starfall I found him. Mother almost had an earth attack when I showed up with him, but now he protects me and my family.”

Barristan frowned a bit, he never thought Eddard Stark was the kind of man to have an almost nonexistent relationship with his son.   

“You’re frowning.” Jon noted.

“Just thinking about your father…”

“People say he was an honorable man.” Jon said solemnly. “I never saw his face; people say I look like him thought.” Jon paused for a moment looking in deep thought. “He invited me to visit Winterfell several times, but I refused, too stubborn and proud, for a long time I resented him for abandoning my mother.”

“But you don’t do this anymore.” The knight noted, as he read Jon’s forlorn expression.

“Aye, I don’t.” he said as he patted Ghost’s head. “Mother told me she loved him, and he loved her. They’ve met at Harrenhal, he planned to ask his father’s permission to marry her when he returned from King’s Landing, but he never did. Catelyn Tully was supposed to marry my uncle Brandon, not him, yet duty called. They say the Conqueror married Visenya for duty and Rhaenys for love. But Lord Stark, my father wasn’t a dragonlord, so he had to choose between love and duty, and he picked duty.”

A single tear then trailed through Jon’s cheek. “I only stopped resenting him when I became Lord of Starfall, I was twelve when I learned. What duty was, duty to your people, duty to your realm, duty to your family, and then I realized I couldn’t blame him. I wish I realized this earlier, he sent me a raven when he became Hand of the king, inviting me to visit him at King’s Landing, and I accepted, sent him a raven, apologizing for shutting him down, distancing myself from the rest of my family just because I was a stupid boy.”

Barristan could see Jon was fighting his hardest to not cry, he had his eyes closed as tears trailed through his cheeks. “I’ve never received his reply, the worst part is that I don’t even know if he read my reply, and now every day I go to sleep I keep thinking about him, if he died without knowing his son really loved him.”

Barristan stood immobile, he could just imagine how hard it was for Jon to speak about this subject. He heard Lord Dayne was a stern leader, someone who inspired confidence in his servants, some would even call him cold, but today he wasn’t being Lord Dayne, he was being Jon, the Jon who in less than one day showed him he cared about his family more than anything in the world, but still a boy of five and ten.

After some minutes Jon finally recomposed himself. “Thanks for listening, it means a lot to me.” He thanked Barristan, before moving towards a chest that stood in one of the corners in the room. “Now, changing subjects” he said as he pulled a key off a necklace he used, inserting it at the lock. “I’d like to ask your help with this.” He said opening the chest, and revealing its contents to the knight.

Barristan gasped. “This is Dawn.”

“Aye” Jon said as he picked up the sword. “I know how to fight using greatswords, but not with this one. Mother said Dawn was different than most of swords, but she still deemed me worth of wielding it, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to use it.”

Dawn was a one of a kind type of sword; it wasn’t Valyrian Steel, but had all his proprieties, such as sharpness and strength. The blade itself was as pale as milkglass but still featured a fain metallic glow. The hilt was long enough for the weapon to be held two-handed and had a star design in it.

“I remember Ser Arthur telling that he was trained to wield Dawn ever since I was a boy.” Barristan commented.

“Yes, unfortunately the master-of-arms who drilled my uncle died at the Trident.” Jon noted grimly.

“I can attempt to help, I’ve served with Arthur at the Kingsguard for more than ten years, I saw him practicing, I saw him fight. But there will be a time when you will need to develop your own style.”

“I understand this, Ser Barristan and I thank you sincerely for helping me.” Jon said solemnly. “This room is a sort of hideout, usually when I’m overwhelmed I came here to relax, listen to my own thoughts, only mother, and now you know this. If you don’t mind I’d like to practice here.”

“No problem, but I advise you to be ready; this will be a torturous training.”

* * *

 

“Thanks again for the great story Ser Barristan.” Jon said, earning an agreeing nod from his cousin Edric as Barristan finished recounting about his feats at the Defiance of Dukensdale.

The two fortnights were gone, and Barristan had been accompanying the Princess in Starfall for two months now. He liked the place, it was beautiful, and, unlike King’s Landing, their inhabitants were truthful.

While Ashara and Princess Myrcella played a role in his extended stay at the castle, the biggest factor was Jon Dayne. The young lord actually remembered Barristan of a young Prince Rhaegar, just and honest. He is man who let his actions talk for himself, and gathered support from his people by treating them fairly.

Barristan rarely had to do anything regarding Jon’s training, just offering some pointers and reviewing some of Ser Arthur’s previous routines.

“Jon I’ve been thinking…” Edric said drawing the duo’s attention.

Jon quickly put a hand at his cousin’s forehead and remarked “You thinking? I’ll call the maester right away, you must be feverous.” causing Barristan to chuckle and Edric to stomp on his foot angrily.

Jon’s relationship with his cousin was an interesting subject; Jon often shifted the roles of big brother and father to his nephew, even being just four years older than him. Edric adored Jon and saw him as a kind of hero, but still was prone to throwing tantrums sometimes. With his mother dying of complications related to childbirth early, Ashara and Allyria pretty much adopted him, often acting as maternal figures, but he clearly lacked a father figure, being just two years old when his father perished at the Greyjoy Rebellion. Jon would try to fit this position sometimes, but clearly wasn’t the best fit to the job.

“Just a jest .Edric, tell me what’s on your mind.” The Lord Dayne said apologetically.

“What if you and Ser Barristan sparred at the courtyard? People would surely like to see a knight of his renown take on our very own Northstar.” The young squire suggested

“That’s actually a very sage idea.” Jon complimented. “It will entertain people and could spark an interest at swordsmanship amongst the peasants, so we would have more recruits at our training sessions.”

The training sessions were a rather innovative idea, which only worked well due to the respect Starfall’s smallfolk had for his Lord. Jon would, once or twice in a month, held large training sessions, accessible to anyone interested, young or old, men or women. Those sessions taught basic moves and stances and were a form of recreation, although Jon was sure they would come in hand in times of war, as it would cut short the training time significantly.

“But first we need to see if Ser Barristan agrees.” Jon said, looking intently at him.

“No problem, we can spar, it will be interesting to see how I fare against the nephew of the Sword of the Morning.

* * *

 

As Edric donned his armor, adding the finishing touches, Barristan glanced at the other corner, where his soon to be opponent tested the balance of the sword.

Jon, despite being born and raised in Dorne opted to go northern when it came to gear, a sword instead of the spear, and boiled leather instead of chainmail or plate. While this opting gave the Lord of Dorne more mobility, it also weakened his defenses and left him vulnerable.

He recalled Ser Arthur telling him that a big part of the Sword of the Morning training consisted in getting used to wear heavy armor whilst maintaining the reflexes and speed, as wielding Dawn would prevent the swordsman of carrying a shield.

“It’s okay, thanks Edric.” He said.

“Umm… Ser Barristan…” Edric trailed off. “Could I please cheer on Jon?”

Barristan raised his eyebrows. “Of course you can, he’s your cousin.”

“But I’m your squire.”

“Just for today because I needed help with my armor, go cheer on your cousin boy, no hard feelings.”

“Thanks, no hard feelings” he replied happily.

As Jon and Barristan neared the center of the field Jon looked at his own army for a second before turning to the knight.

“Could you please give me one minute?” The Lord Dayne asked

“Yes…of course.” he replied curiously.

Jon then quickly went to the balcony where his mother, aunt and betrothed watched the match, turning to the Princess. He asked something which Selmy couldn’t quite discern earning a smile from Myrcella, who then took a red and golden handkerchief and wrapped at Jon’s right wrist as a favor.

Much to the surprise of the spectators, Jon gave a peck on Myrcella’s cheek, causing the Princess to resemble her mother’s house coat of arms due to the redness in her face and her golden curls.

The Lord of Starfall quickly returned to his position, acting as if nothing has happened.

“Now I’m ready.” He announced, earning a chuckle from Barristan.

The duo then looked to Ashara, who dropped a purple handkerchief from the balcony, a few seconds later it touched the ground, signalizing the beginning of the duel.

Both the combatants opted to use a single sword for this fight, Jon used a bastard sword, with slightly larger range than Barristan’s which in return was lighter.

Deciding to test Jon’s defenses Barristan took the initiative, performing several slashing motion, which were properly blocked by the larger sword.  The former Kingsguard could wear that for a moment he saw Arthur, with his pale hair and deep purple eyes in Jon’s place due to the similarities of their movements

Barristan then faked a strike to Jon’s left, causing the young lord to adjust his sword to block the feint, leaving his right side exposed. Using the sword’s lightness as advantage he aimed a quick strike at his right. But Jon surprised him once again rolling forward, and counterattacking with a slice aimed at his ribs. The strike was blocked by sheer reflexes and years of experience, but a foreboding sensation took over Barristan, because for an instant the young, handsome features of Jon changed to match the smaller but infamous knight of the Laughing Tree, with his weirwood shield and mismatched armor.

Feeling the change of momentum, the young lord went on offensive, launching a fluty of slashes, which were quickly evaded by Barristan, but when Barristan needed to block a strike with his sword, the youngling changed his grip to a two-handed one and forced the sword down, overpowering the Harvest Hall’s knight defenses. Once again only the sharp reflexes and experience prevented Barristan from losing, as he retreated a second before his defense’s collapsed. And Jon’s image was shifted to his father’s, with a saddened expression wielding Ice with both hands.

 _“Those memories are distracting me…”_ he thought

Barristan was a better swordsman than Jon; simply put no prodigious talent could match more than sixty years of strenuous practice. But the Lord Dayne had his means to level the field, he was faster and stronger, but most of all creative and attentive to details while in a simple spar this wouldn’t change things by much, in a chaos scattered battlefield it could be the difference between life and death.

For the next minute it was a stalemate, neither of the fighter wining or giving ground, but then Jon overcommitted a thrust and it was all the opening Barristan needed, he lunged in to finish the spar but the realized something was off, Jon was grinning.

The Lord of Starfall then stabbed the ground with his sword, and used it as a propeller to carry him forward, while he directed a kick at Barristan’s open chest.

The kick wasn’t a particularly strong one, but was enough to push the knight backwards, and as he was pushed backwards, another memory came to Barristan’s mind, this time a much more painful one.

The next second, Jon was above Barristan his left arm pining the knight’s right, which held the sword, whilst the Dayne’s right arm pointed the sword at Barristan throat.

As the crowd roared, suddenly Jon’s hair wasn’t so dark anymore, the sun reflected on him, and made his hair platinum blonde, his face’s shadow seemed to darken his eyes. And Barristan was breathless, not because of his old age or due to the blow at his chest, but because he saw the ghost of the man he fought for, the man he believed with his own life. He saw a secret, hidden by wolves at the sands of Dorne and protected by the Torrentine.

 _“Rhaegar…”_ he muttered incredulously.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked the quick update, also some things I forgot to mention in the first chapter.  
> Myrcella and some other characters will be slightly aged up, but I will inform when I do so.  
> Also this mainly follows the bookverse, but there will be some moments from the TV Show too.
> 
> Now for the notes:  
> I took inspiration at Ser Arthur Dayne's scene at the Tower of Joy for Jon's first fight scene.  
> Jon and Edric's relationship will be both similar and different to the canon Jon and Arya, you will notice some common patterns but also some major differences,  
> Jon and Barristan talking about Eddard was my favorite scene to write because things came naturally, I hope it wasn't overly angsty, but I think this illustrates what Jon Dayne will be like at this story.  
> Finally the last scene is a bit similar to Ned's hallucination dreams, with Barristan subconsciously overlapping Arthur, Lyanna(Knight of the Laughing Tree), Eddard and finally Rhaegar's images above Jon.  
> Next chapter will be a Myrcella POV and will focus the relationship between her and Jon, I'm particularly dreading writing this one, as I will have to think as a infatuated 12 years old girl, so it will probably be short.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the update and please leave reviews with suggestion, thoughts and questions, I love reading the reviews.


	3. Myrcella I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, last chapter received mixed reviews, a shame as I thought it to be my finest work so far. There’s the whole Jon not being a Dayne and being given Starfall thing, which in my opinion is a bit invalid, because he has Dayne ancestors, Robert Baratheon for instance used his grandmother’s Targaryen blood to claim the Iron Throne. A lot was said about the unethical nature of Ashara regarding Jon’s parentage. And Jon’s actions by outright allying the Lannister, in opposition to Dorne and the North, were also criticized. But, this history, is an ode to the dark heroes. And Jon, as protagonist of this will be a antihero. So, Ashara stealing her nephew’s birthright and installing a Targaryen on Starfall was wrong, no doubt. Jon, brokering an alliance with his overlord’s arch nemesis was also wrong. But real beings are made of qualities and flaws, and I believe the best way of portraying a good character is exposing his flaws first before entering into his qualities. This isn’t a anti-Stark or anti-Martell story, there are several things which will still be revealed.

It had been two months since Jon entered Myrcella's life, or she entered his, and despite her reluctance when she was informed of the deal, she was happy. Starfall was different from King's Landing, and while lacking the luxury of the capital, it really became the Princess’s favorite place in the world. Her room was situated in the topmost pavement of the keep and it provided her everyday with a breathtaking view of the Torrentine, the castle itself was a work of art, and slightly remembered her of both Riverrun due to the use of the river as a part of the castle's formation, and Casterly Rock, due to the elevated ground and the cliffs at the northern side of the castle.

While choosing between King’s Landing and Starfall just on terms of beauty was a somewhat hard decision, when it came to people she would choose Starfall's smallfolk over King’s Landing each and every time. They were truthful and hardworking, as opposed to the lazy, deceiving nature of the capital's residents.

The highborn were a different matter, but Jon was a strong Lord, and demanded respect. If the respect didn’t came from free will, it would came from imposition. Two weeks ago she remembered being at the great Hall when it started. Two quarreling Lords were discussing the ownership of a plot of land, with a somewhat rich Lord assuming Jon would decide in his favor in opposition to the smaller one, even with a considerably weaker claim. But Jon was Jon, and opted for righteousness over power, the rich Lord was outraged and called Jon a bastard and her mother a “wolf fucker” what Myrcella saw in Jon's eyes was fury, controlled fury, but fury nonetheless. He ordered each woman and kid to leave the room, last thing she remembered as Ashara guided her outside was the Lord’s terrified expression as his head was leaned on a chopping block.

Ashara was an amazing woman, and if Jon was the man he was today it was greatly because of her. She went out of her way to make her feel welcomed at the castle, often having tea with her whilst talking about being a lady. She made clear to Myrcella that she, as Jon's wife would have to know how to administer a household, and was expected to be there for Jon as a supporting pillar. Despite the harshness of the words, she quickly took the responsibility and now was learning from the former Lady of the castle.

She also had an good relationship with Allyria and Edric. Allyria was similar to Ashara in many aspects, more reserved, but always treated her well. Edric reminded her of Tommen sometimes, despite the age difference, he would be cheerful and happy most of the times, but could become deadly serious too. His relationship with Jon was different from anything she saw before, they truly acted like brothers, with Jon taking the bigger brother role with pride.

Finally there was Jon. Jon was just… Jon. At first when she saw him she was both blushed and felt terrified. Blushed because Jon was the most handsome man she ever saw, ladies in King's Landing might prefer her brother or Lord Tyrell, but he wasn’t just a pretty face, he demanded respect and walked with a kingly attitude she never saw present on her father or her brother. But she was terrified also, he looked so much at the man her brother killed. That was the first time she saw someone die, and the memory of Ilyn Payne holding the deceased Lord Paramount of the North's head in triumph would forever be etched in her mind. And to see her future husband's face brought those memories back, if it weren’t for the violet eyes, Jon would be Ned Stark reborn and to see Jon's head the place of his father’s was the worst nightmare she ever had.

At first she tried to not open to him, but every time he glanced at her she would feel the blood running to her cheeks. But then she found herself glancing at Jon more than often, the day her heart first fluttered was when he asked for her favor to wear when he fought against Barristan. Ever since then she began to see Jon, not Lord Dayne. Two faces of the same coin. The contrast of Jon’s determined and ferocious gaze he had when fighting and the tenderness he had when speaking with his family, and sometimes her too. The stern mask he put when dealing with his vassals and the way his rare smiles would lit up the whole room when he let the mask drop around people he trusted.

No lady would have liked to be separated from her family, and forced into a marriage, but Myrcella knew she was lucky, because she ended up in Starfall, with Jon Dayne.

It was already night, dinner was a normal affair with Jon telling his family about the growing tensions with the Qorgyles and the backlash of the agreement with the crown, which caused outrage at Houses Yronwood and Dalt, which previously held the monopoly of the production of pomegranates and lemons. As he excused himself as he still needed to answer some letters, she went to her room where she was preparing herself to sleep.

A knock on the door revealed her handmaiden, Rosamund, who finally came from Lannisport in the previous fortnight.

Rosamund looked a lot like her, the biggest difference being her hair, which was straight whilst the Princesses’ was curly. She was around the same age as Edric, probably a year younger than her.  Jon once said he could tell her apart from Rosamund because her face was prettier, which brought a hammering sensation at her heart.

“Princess,” Rosamund said with a curtsy “Lord Dayne requests your presence at his study.”

* * *

After properly dressing in a red dress and having her hair made, she was escorted by Rosamund, and Edric, who seemed to be more around than often ever since Rosamund came, to Jon’s study.

She knocked on the door, and heard Jon’s gruff voice telling her to come in.

As she entered, she could see that the room was tidy, with exception of the several papers upon her betrothed’s desk, as she caught his glance, Jon smiled tiredly.

“Princess.” He greeted

“My lord.”

Jon sighed. “We’re alone here, I wouldn’t mind you calling me by my name.”

“I will, as long as you call me by mine.”

The Lord smiled once again. “Let’s start over then. Myrcella.”

“Jon.” She replied happily

“I’ve received a raven from the capital, apparently Stannis Baratheon tried to besiege King’s Landing, but was repelled by your grandfather, uncle and the forces of the Reach.” He explained

“Oh…” she trailed off. While Stannis accused her of being a bastard, she still saw him as her uncle.

“Stannis was unharmed, at least physically, but lost a great part of his fleet and men.” Jon explained, before his expression darkened a bit. “Unfortunately your uncle Tyrion suffered some injuries” probably seeing her terrified expression, Jon quickly added “but he will live.”

As she softened a bit she couldn’t help but worry about the people whose lives were forsaken due to her brother stupid act. “What about the losses?”

“Apparently it was an absolute victory for your uncle, he deployed wildfire in the defense, which caught Stannis off-guard. So for the capital, two thousand at maximum I’d guess, for Stannis ten thousands, at minimum.”

_“Damn you Joffrey for starting this war.”_ She thought bitterly.

“Don’t.” Jon said taking her hands with his own. “Don’t let this consume you, no good comes from it. A child isn’t subject to her parent’s mistakes, a sister could never pay for her brother’s act.”

Jon’s last sentence broke the dam as Myrcella started sobbing.

Then she told Jon everything; of how Joffrey demanded for Arya’s direwolf to be slaughtered, how Sansa’s direwolf took her place instead; how Sansa was forced to see her father’s, Jon’s father’s she added, in a pike; how Joffrey would have knights to beat up Sansa whenever Robb defeated the Lannister’s forces at the Riverlands.

Jon’s face was unreadable, but Myrcella could see further; the fury in his eyes akin to when he beheaded that one Lord who offended Ashara; how his fists balled nails carving blood from his own hands; how he seemingly shook in anger.

As he got up, his arm was brought up too and she braced herself for the blow to come, but it never did. Jon just hugged her tightly, not as one of her father’s bone crushing hugs, but strong as she felt his presence, protecting her like armor, but with a touch of tenderness, of care.

“It’s not your fault, it was never your fault.” He whispered at her ear with such honesty, she couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Thanks…” she muttered returning the hug.

After some minutes Jon gently broke the hug and opened a drawer, revealing a bottle of Dornish Red, causing Myrcella to raise her eyebrows.

“Just don’t tell my mother. Sometimes after dealing with unruly subjects and some less than pleasant Lords a man can afford himself a glass of wine. Want some?”

Myrcella nodded, “Just a cup, please.”

After she and her betrothed shared a few gulps of wine she turned to Jon.

“How come I never saw you at the capital or at a tourney?” she asked, clearly curious.

Jon shrugged. “I guess I never had time, nor interest. I was knighted but I never saw tourneys as something which appealed to me, I love riding with my Sand Steed but not truly interested at jousting. As for the capital, my presence was never required, I planned visiting one day, as my father was the Hand of King, but I guess I was too late.” He said sadly.

Myrcella opened her mouth to express her sympathies, but was cut short by Jon. “Don’t. The only to blame for this is me. I took my father for granted, now I have to bear the consequences.” The Lord of Starfall said with resignation.

This caused Myrcella to reflect a lot too. She didn’t even knew who truly her father was. Her legal father was Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, but she had her doubts. Her mother’s marriage was loveless and Cersei was so vengeful that it sometimes scared her. Then there was her uncle Jaime who sometimes cared her like a father should, Robert would worry about her but was far from being a good parent, sometimes embarrassing her with drunken speeches and parading around with whores. Jaime however was tender, sometimes making sacrifices to be closer to her, last time she saw him he was riding to the Riverlands alongside her grandfather; last time she heard from him he had been captured by Robb Stark. She promised herself that if she somehow saw her uncle, or father, again she would demand the truth from him.

“I called you here because I’m writing to Lord Tyrion, congratulate him on the battle, wish for his recovery and ask for an accomplished stonemason.” He announced

“To build the dam?”

“It will actually be a barrage, as we decided to build gates which could be opened to regulate the water flow.” He explained proudly, his project was very ambitious but if it worked it would really benefit the lands surrounding the castle.

“Since I am already sending a raven to King’s Landed I wanted to ask if you’d like to write to your family, I guess you can be somewhat lonely, hearing from them might help.”

Her smile brightened, Jon was truly caring. “I’ll get you ink and some parchments.” He said.

Myrcella wrote letters to her mother, uncle Tyrion and brothers, while Jon silently took another parchment and began to write something. She bit her lip thinking about her other relative.

“Jon?”

“Yes?” he asked looking up from the parchment.

“What do you think about my uncle?”

“Tyrion?”

“No, Jaime.”

Jon frowned for a minute in deep thought. “I greatly admire your uncle Jaime.”

This surprised Myrcella, Jaime was always regarded with disgust by Lords, even by his brother-in-law. “Why?”

“Because he killed the Mad King.”

“Usually the Lords say this when asked why they hate him.”

“I know, I’ve met your uncle once; Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honor they would say, but I only see the killer of a madman.” Jon got up with a determined expression, becoming Lord Dayne. “What Ser Jaime did was dishonorable, yes, he broke his vows, but what’s the value of vows anyway? When you are sworn to a madman, a rapist? Honor and justice sometimes go opposite ways, I can’t criticize Ser Barristan for honoring his vows, but I can’t criticize Jaime Lannister for revolting against them in that situation either.”

Myrcella smiled. Never would she think that a son of the honorable Ned Stark would admire her… uncle. “I’m writing him a letter.” She announced.

After few minutes Myrcella finished the letter, and a quote lingered in her head. _“I’ve met your uncle once.”_

“Jon?” she said, attracting his attention once again.

“Myrcella.” He said in her gruff voice and she decided she liked how her name sounded in his lips.

“How you met my uncle?”

“Lannisport, at the Greyjoy Rebellion. Your father was there too. At first I even though Jaime was the king.” He said with a chuckle

Myrcella couldn’t remember a bit of the Greyjoy rebellion, after all she was just four years old, which made Jon… six?

“Jon…” she asked with narrowed eyes, already fearing his response. “… what you were doing at Lannisport in the middle of the rebellion?”

“Helping retake the city of course.” He said if a boy six namedays old fighting in a battle was the most common thing in the world.

“Who’s is the madman who takes a boy this age to a battlefield?” she asked baffled

Then Jon’s face morphed into an expression she never seen before, his lips were twitching as if containing a smirk but his eyes showed melancholy and briefly longing.

“My uncle Vorian, a truly great man.” He said proudly. “Lannisport was when I earned my knighthood, avenging his death, my first kill.”

Myrcella groaned, Jon seemed to find putting his life in risk fun; well she certainly wasn’t amused. “I’m not leaving you alone with our children until they are at least twelve.” She announced, before quickly covering her mouth as the meaning of the words she said a moment ago sunk in.

The princess hoped Jon was too much focused at the letter in front of him to let her words go unnoticed. However his smirk said otherwise. “Princess” he said in mock surprise “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”

Myrcella didn’t need a mirror to imagine how red her face was. Jon chuckled a bit, before deciding to change the subject. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that with my children, it was a jest.” He said reassuringly.

Myrcella couldn’t help but smile, she remembered young lords trying to court her, sometimes trying to be fun; well they weren’t. Jon, however, was so serious that when he actually made a funny comment it was almost impossible not to laugh.

Jon then finished writing, and analyzed the letter, frowning.

“Something is troubling you?” she asked

“I could say so… I’m writing a letter to my brother, I never met him, but the whole family talk made me realize I should at least try to know him.” He explained. “But I don’t know if the letter is too…plain?”

Myrcella motioned with her hands, and Jon handed her the letter.

His handwriting was far from great, but was readable however.

> _“To Robb Stark, King in the North_
> 
> _There’s no easy way to write this letter, I’m your half-brother, I don’t know if Lord Stark ever spoke about me. But yes, I’m your half-brother, son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne, born as Jon Sand, legitimized as Jon Dayne._
> 
> _For the last moons, ever since Lord Stark was executed I’ve thought about my family, not just my family in Starfall, but my entire family, in the North. I’ve been there twice, to visit uncle Benjen at the wall, but never went to Winterfell, I guess pride didn’t let me. Lord Stark wrote tome several times, telling me to visit, get to know my family, now that he’s gone I regret not accepting it._
> 
> _I’m not writing to earn your favor, nor to put my name in line for succession, I forfeited that when I was legitimized a Dayne, and even not being a Stark, Stark blood runs through my veins, a Stark keeps his words.  I can’t offer to fight at your wars alongside you, nor to help your cause. I’m writing to fix a mistake I made long time ago, isolating myself from my family, just because we don’t share a name it doesn’t mean we don’t share blood._
> 
> _So I’d like to know you, tales of your exploits are heard even here in Dorne, but I’d like to hear from you._
> 
> _Jon Dayne, Lord of Starfall.”_

“This is lame isn’t it?” Jon asked embarrassedly

“No, I think it’s heartfelt.” Myrcella announced

Jon then gave one of his Jon’s smiles, the ones which meant so much with so little gesture.

“Thanks, I’ll send the raven tomorrow.” He then looked up at a window in his solar, it was already night. “You know what? Come with me, I’ll show you a nice place.

* * *

Jon took a torch and led Myrcella through the castle, he then surprised her by entering through a gap at a wall, seeing her doubtful expression,  Jon then offered his spare hand to the princess.

Myrcella felt herself getting warmer at his touch. It wasn’t something sexual, but much rather a sense of security. The gap led to a hallway of sorts, with a single room at his end.

Jon squeezed her hand to signal her that he had everything under control, they entered the room, where Myrcella saw a simple ladder leading to a hole in the roof. Her betrothed wordlessly rested the torch at a holder in the wall, before quickly climbing the stairs. A few seconds later his arm appeared, Myrcella quickly understood his intentions as she tightly grabbed his forearm, being lifted up easily. As she went through the hole she had to held a gasp. This was the castle’s rooftop and the view there was breathtaking, the stars lit up the sky, and the moon was in full shine, if she looked bellow she could see the stars and moon reflected at the ever fluent waters of the Torrentine.

She then glanced up to Jon, the way his face was also lit by stars, the way the moon shone in his hair, the way his violet eyes twinkled, and she knew that she was falling for him. How couldn’t she? He was gentle, caring, attractive, just, everything a girl looked for in a husband.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Jon asked without looking at her. “Sometimes when there’s a lot on my mind I come here to clear my head, to remember what’s important.”

He then turned to her.

_“Gods, his eyes, it should be almost a crime to have eyes like that.”_

“I never expected to marry a princess, I always thought I would end up with a northern bride or maybe a Blackmont or a Fowler. But I’m glad I ended up with you, even if the Dornish hate me even more because of this, I’d face everything to be with you.”

_“I love him.”_ She realized

“Myrcella, I think I’m falling for you.” He said hoarsely

Myrcella then forgot everything she was taught by her mother and septas at the capital, she just shot up, and went towards Jon.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn’t heard, because she tiptoed to crash her lips on his.

Her first kiss, she was sure she was being inexperienced, and sloppy. She feared even more when Jon stiffened, but then he encircled her waist with his hand and embraced her, returning the kiss.

And just then the wolf kissed the lioness, under the watchful gaze of the moon and the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone got curious, those are the ages of the Stark, “Baratheon” and Dayne children in this story.  
> Jon Dayne - Born in 283 AC (15 years old)  
> Robb Stark - Born in 283 AC (15 years old)  
> Joffrey “Baratheon” - Born in 284 AC (14 years old)  
> Sansa Stark - Born in 286 AC (12 years old)  
> Myrcella “Baratheon” - Born in 286 AC (12 years old)  
> Edric Dayne - Born in 287 AC (11 years old)  
> Arya Stark - Born in 287 AC (11 years old)  
> Bran Stark - Born in 288 AC (10 years old)  
> Tommen “Baratheon” - Born in 288 AC (10 years old)  
> Rickon Stark – Born in 293 AC (5 years old)  
> I still hadn’t begun working on next chapter, which is somewhat good because now I’m asking for your opinion about it.  
> The next two chapters will happen at the same time, so their order isn’t that much important. One of those chapters will be Jon’s POV, whilst the other will be a multiple characters POV which will show how things are happening at some other places. Also, remember this is AU, so some thing happened or will happen differently.  
> I’d like to know which one of those chapters you want first, and I will try my best to deliver, although I can write the less popular one if I face a writer’s block at the first.
> 
> Now about this chapter, romance isn’t my forte so I struggled a lot. This update was shorter, and in my opinion duller than chapter two, but please don’t be discouraged, I’ll try to improve on romance scenes, also the next three or four chapters will go back to my area of expertise, murder, limb chopping death and gore… the good old stuff. That being said I’d like to know your thoughts about a love triangle between Edric, Arya and Rosamund, to keep things amusing.
> 
> Please leave a review, I will try to answer quickly as I can.


	4. Multiple I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delaying this update, I had to go on a trip. After this I decided to honor Robert Baratheon's sage advice, and spent some time eating, drinking and whoring my way to an early grave.  
> Jokes aside I apologize, and without any further ado I humbly present you Chapter 4.

Howland

He sighed as he glanced at the map of North.  The once unthinkable happened, Moat Cailin has fallen.  He supported Robb, the boy was the son to his best friend, but he had been foolish.

He was foolish in crowning himself King in the North, not that the northern independence was inviable, but he was foolish in taking the fight to the lions instead of preparing himself to defend his home. He once again was foolish by breaking the agreement with the Freys, one could understand his reasons, Robb just had received news of his brothers being killed and ended up bedding a Westerlands maiden, while not the right course of action it was understandable men often wouldn’t return home from war, and being betrayed by a friend, who almost was regarded as a brother by him, and learning that this once called friend killed his brothers pushed Robb off the limit.

But Robb was a son of Eddard Stark, and would protect the lady’s honor, even if her house was sworn to the enemy. Like Eddard’s honor almost killed him at the Tower of Joy, Robb’s honor would make him lose the war. Unlike wolves, lions didn’t fight honorably.

Yet Robb’s biggest mistake was to trust Theon Greyjoy, and this alongside his rash action of leaving the North unprotected, put him on an extremely difficult opposition. He couldn’t march north because Late Walder controlled the Crossing. He couldn’t continue his Westerlands campaign because he lacked the manpower to besiege Casterly Rock. Yet he couldn’t just sit at Riverrun as without the support of the North his army would starve to death. Yet there was still hope, Robb could ally Stannis in order to get his ships and reconquer the North, Robb could attempt an alliance with Dorne based on their mutual hate of the Lannisters.

Howland wanted to go north, find Jojen and Meera, he trusted both of his children wouldn’t die so easily. With Jojen’s greensight and Meera’s skills with a frogspear, he hoped they were able to flee Winterfell and escape further north. Yet he glanced at the map, Robb forces trapped at the Trident.

_“What would you do, Ned? Go save your family or win the war?”_

He glanced at the map tiredly, Ned wouldn’t be angry with him if he opted to go to his family, yet he couldn’t forgive his alliance with House Stark. And then he realized. He trusted Meera and Jojen more than he trusted, Robb.

_“Meera, Jojen, please hang in there.”_

He then turned to his castellan.

“Reunite the best men you can find. Tomorrow we’re going South.”

* * *

Robb

His troops reached Riverrun earlier than expected. Yet he was nervous. The Freys were outraged with his actions, and it pained him to admit, they were right, he was an oath breaker, not because he shoved a sword in a king’s back but because he went back in his word to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters. Yet glancing at his right he saw her. And Freys be damned it was worth. She wasn’t a rare beauty, light brown curls and brown eyes, yet she was his wife, and he loved her.

“Something in your mind?” Jeyne asked. His wife was somewhat shy, but once she opened up she would be your best companion for life, and he was glad she opened up to him.

He felt the disapproving glances from his soldiers, even his mother, who trailed behind him, but he couldn’t care less. He was King, and she was his Queen.

“I’m just admiring how beautiful you are.” He said leaning in to catch her mouth in a kiss.

“Robb.” She scolded him. “People are looking.”

“Let them look, I’m just a king kissing his queen.” He said leaning for another kiss, but Jayne then withdrew her face.

“Maester Vyman.” She said instead acknowledging the Maester.

“Your Graces” he said kneeling.

“Get up”, Robb ordered, “what’s the matter?

“We received several ravens.” He said

Robb frowned, ravens usually never meant good news.

“Have them brought to my study.”

* * *

 

Robb entered his study trailed by Jeyne and his mother, he glanced at six different parchments.

He sighed, reading one by one. The first five were from his river lords, whom reported to him about their progress in the reconquest of their territory and the current state of their lands. While some carried good news, some pleaded for help, which just mad Robb more eager to head back North, avenge his brothers and acquire the means to help the war ravaged Riverlands.

The final one however was from Starfall, which greatly intrigued him, he knew Ashara Dayne was the woman his father intended to marry, but they never came to be as duty forced him to marry his mother instead. And he knew of his brother, although it was a touchy subject. His father would never speak of him, mother would reprehend servants mentioning Ashara or him, the only time he heard about him was from a drunken uncle Benjen at a feast in Winterfell.

_“His name’s Jon… he’s Lord of Starfall now…good boy… broods a bit too much… but a good boy… you’d like to meet him…”_ he remembered his uncle’s words.

He took a deep breath and proceeded to read the letter.

_“To Robb Stark, King in the North_

_There’s no easy way to write this letter, I’m your half-brother, I don’t know if Lord Stark ever spoke about me. But yes, I’m your half-brother, son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne, born as Jon Sand, legitimized as Jon Dayne._

_For the last moons, ever since Lord Stark was executed I’ve thought about my family, not just my family in Starfall, but my entire family, in the North. I’ve been there twice, to visit uncle Benjen at the wall, but never went to Winterfell, I guess pride didn’t let me. Lord Stark wrote tome several times, telling me to visit, get to know my family, now that he’s gone I regret not accepting it._

_I’m not writing to earn your favor, nor to put my name in line for succession, I forfeited that when I was legitimized a Dayne, and even not being a Stark, Stark blood runs through my veins, a Stark keeps his words.  I can’t offer to fight at your wars alongside you, nor to help your cause. I’m writing to fix a mistake I made long time ago, isolating myself from my family, just because we don’t share a name it doesn’t mean we don’t share blood._

_So I’d like to know you, tales of your exploits are heard even here in Dorne, but I’d like to hear from you._

_Jon Dayne, Lord of Starfall.”_

He was so focused on the letter that he didn’t saw his mother sneak behind him to read the contents too. Robb was lost, he could have been angry, his half-brother shunned his family for so long, but now he finally wrote.

The King in the North had just lost two brothers by blood and another brother by affection, perhaps the gods finally decided that he lost too much?

Suddenly Caitlyn took the letter from his hands and teared it apart.

“All lies.” She hissed

Robb opened his mouth to argue but his mother beat him to it.

“Last time you trusted a so called brother I lost two sons. I won’t allow it.”

”He’s still my brother.” Robb argued.

“Half-brother.” She said sternly

“We have the same father, it is enough to me.”

“And where he was when Ned was killed? Where he was when Bran was unconscious?” she asked angrily. “He dares write a letter to you after he agreed to marry the sister of the man who beheaded your father. He’s no better than the lions, he’ll never be a wolf.”

Robb said nothing, in another time he would be glad to meet his half-brother, but now he had to win a war.

* * *

 

He finally reached the Twins, seat of House Frey after two days of march from Riverrun. Despite his protests Jeyne insisted to join him, which angered his mother even more. It’s a common saying that war changes people, and his mother was the perfect example of this. She didn’t have to wield a sword to change to worse; the death of her children and husband made this for her. She became snappish and arbitrary, going as far as openly criticizing him and Jeyne, yet her worst act was to free the Kingslayer in a unofficial deal in exchange for his sisters.  Not that he didn’t wanted to see his sisters unreturned, but he didn’t wanted to believe the words of the lions, as king he needed to put the needs of the North above his family’s as harsh as it sounded.  

As they neared the castle Robb felt Grey Wind getting restless. Considering the ominous feeling and animosity between the houses, Robb then ordered his brother-in-law, and friend Ser Raynald Westerling, to lead Grey Wind to the kennels “Please keep an eye on him” he said whispering “he’s my best bodyguard.”

After being received by Lord Walder and his heir Stevron he accepted the offer of bread and salt and was conducted to the great hall where the wedding would take place.

* * *

 

Despite all his concerns the wedding was nearing his end. Edmure and Roslyn had been bedded and the feat had been nearing its end. Yet he was concerned, and started to notice some worrying things. The musicians playing at the wedding seemed to be sturdier than the usual, looking more like soldiers. While some Freys were extremely cold and rude, Edwyn Frey for instance refused to dance with Dacey Mormont, some were overly friend, in a way that it seemed almost forced, like the duo who seemed to keep offering ale to The Smalljon.  Another odd thing he noticed was that the few Freys whom actually were in friendly terms with him such as Alesander, Perwyn and Olyvar weren’t present. Finally he glanced to his right and saw Black Walder, who in return smirked at him. If it weren’t for his Jeyne Black Walder would be dead, he remembered he said that his sisters would not be loath to wed a widower. Thus he felt some glares directed at Jeyne. He then called Dacey Mormont, feeling apprehensive.

“Dacey, please call Lucas Blackwood and the mountain clansmen leaders.”

Lucas came alongside Donnel Locke, Owen Norrey and Robin Flint.

“Lucas, Dacey, please escort Jeyne to her chambers. I’ll be following shortly after.” He ordered in a whisper.

As the duo stood behind Jeyne, sounds of footsteps were heard and Grey Wind invaded the room with bloodied teeth.

Then all hell broke loose.

As a tune he recognized as “The Rains of Castamere” started playing the so called musicians dropped their instruments and took crossbows, firing bolts at the Stark forces. They would be dead if weren’t for the heroic intervention of Ser Wendel Manderly, who flipped the table at Robb and his guard, thus protecting his family and guard at the expense of his life.

Then Freys, alongside Bolton and Karstark men charged at several of Robb’s bannerman, such as Pipers, Tallharts and Dustins.

“PROTECT THE KING.” The Greatjon yelled from a table as he sliced a Karstark man’s throat, his voice echoing through the castle.

Robb’s guard then surrounded him in a square like formation, with  the Smalljon leading upfront, Dacey at his right flank, Donnel at his left and both Norrey and Flint protecting their rear with their shields raised. Robb, alongside his queen and his mother were protected at the middle.

At the entrance, Grey Wind, with several bolts piercing his fur valiantly charged at the Freys who were in a futile attempt to close the doors.

“There.” The Smalljon ordered pointing to the open doors.

He heard a yell from his left and saw Donnel lying in the ground with a bolt piercing his throat. A Frey whom Robb recognized as Aegon Frey, known as Jinglebell tried to charge at Caitlyn but his mother readily sliced his arm and seized him, holding a knife at his throat.

“Let us go.” She demanded, looking at the Lord of the Crossing.

“A lack wit grandson for a son?” he said cynically “Not a good deal.” Walder concluded as more bolts felt upon the king and his guard, Robb howled in pain as a bolt hit his waist. Norrey took several bolts at the part of his back which was unprotected, falling too.

Caitlyn looked at Robb. “Family, Duty, Honor.” She said, with a tear falling from her eyes as she slit Jinglebell’s throat. Before any of his guard could react, Raymund Frey  sneaks from behind and sliced Caitlyn’s throat in return.

“MOTHER!” he yelled desperately. But he couldn’t look back as Flint helped him up.

“We need to reach the door.”

As they neared the door another bolt came upon them, but this time Flint threw himself over Robb, while Lucas took the bolts intended for his queen.

With only Smalljon and Dacey alive, they finally reached the door, and Robb felt his direwolf die as he was hit by another barrage of bolts. The Smalljon quickly beheaded the Frey soldier who tried to close the door and pushed Robb and Jeyne outside the room.  Instead of joining them he locked the door.

Dacey used her mace to quickly carve out space, but ultimately was killed by an axe in her gut, leaving a limping Robb alongside Jeyne.

As the couple sneaked through the Twins they haven’t met so much resistance, Old Walder probably thought they would never leave the great hall. They sprinted through a large corridor, but as they neared the hallway which led to the bridge, Robb howled in pain as he was hit by two bolts, one in his upper right back, other at his left ribcage. The King couldn’t do nothing but fall helplessly as his wife got up, protecting him with her body, glaring as the crossbowman prepared another bolt. He wanted to yell to her to get away but he couldn’t find his voice, he desperately looked at Jeyne, attempting to get her attention, plead for her to leave him. He heard the sound of flesh being pierced, but as he looked up he saw the crossbowman on his knees, a knife carving its way through his heart. Behind the fallen soldier, stood a bloodied and beaten Raynald Westerling.

“Jeyne…mother betrayed us… “he said hoarsely “don’t cross the bridge or try to get to the camp, only death awaits there… must head to the water…” he said as he helped Jeyne to lift Robb. 

Robb’s vision was a blurry, he felt Jeyne besides, him but couldn’t see where they were heading. He only heard screams, his soldier’s screams.  He then saw dark blue water, felt Jeyne take his head into her arms.

“Should we die, know I’ll always love you.” She said jumping toward the river and pulling him.

As he crashed at the river, he felt nothing but darkness.

* * *

Jaime

He paced towards the dungeons with fury in his eyes. As soon as he made back to the capital alongside Brienne he received the news that his son was dead, and his daughter sent to Dorne of all places, the responsible for both of these actions, his own brother.

Using his position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard he managed to dismiss the guards of the dungeon, this was family matters. However as he entered the dungeon he came face to face with Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne himself.

The Prince of Dorne was dressed in a yellow Dornish styled robe, and has medium length black hair.

“Kingslayer.” He sneered

“Prince Oberyn.” Jaime said between gritted teeth.

“How things were going? Breaking your vows once again instead of protecting the royal family?” he mocked.

This was another painful memory for Jaime, and for a moment the words she said echoed at his head. _“You’re a better man than what they give you credit for, Ser Jaime.”_

He ignored those thoughts. “What were you doing here?”

“What I do or don’t do is my concern only.” Oberyn said, stepping up, glaring at Jaime.

Two months earlier Jaime would’ve already drawn his sword at the Dornish, but now, a hand short and still weakened from his captivity at Riverrun and his journey back to King’s Landing, he ignored the Prince, who sneered, and made his way towards the bottom of the dungeon.

As he entered the dungeons he saw his brother figure and despite all his anger he felt pity of him. He was clearly bruised and had a huge scar at his face.

“Brother.” Tyrion acknowledged weakly.

“Did you do it?” he asked

“What?” the Imp feigned ignorance.

“Did you kill Joffrey?” he demanded angrily.

“If I killed your son?” his brother asked surprising Jaime. “No, I’m afraid I don’t, but don’t tell father and Cersei, I’m afraid they already made their minds.” He said ironically.

“H-How?” he asked.

“That’s what I do.” He said shrugging. “I drink and I know things.”

“D-Does father…” he trailed

“No, he doesn’t believe those rumors.” Tyrion said, causing Jaime to let out a sigh of relief.

“But if you don’t killed him who did it?”

“Don’t know, but I suspect the Tyrells.” Sensing Jaime’s inquiring glance, Tyrion further explained. “Tommen is easier to control than Joffrey, besides I doubt Margaery would be pleased in marrying a sadist.”

Jaime then glanced at Tyrion doubtfully.

“I may hate Cersei, father and even Joffrey but I’m not a kinslayer, and I’d never kill your children.”

Jaime nodded. “I trust you.”

After a few minutes he turned to Tyrion.

“Why you sent Myrcella to Dorne?”

“It was the least worst place for her. If I sent her to the Iron Islands she would just be a broodmare for Theon or worst of all Balon Greyjoy, if I sent her to the vale she would be betrothed to a mentally unstable boy, with an equally unstable mother and under the thumb of Littlefinger. It was either Dorne or risk having to marry her to a Frey or a Tyrell, who would stab us in the back in the first choice they had, and in Dorne I opted sending her to a Dayne with Stark honor instead of the Martells who are still out for revenge for Elia.” The former King’s hand explained.

“Do you think she’ll be safe?” he asked worriedly.

“As safe as a Princess can be during wartime. Still it was a necessary move, we weakened the Martells and secured the help of the Reach. Besides, I received a letter from Myrcella, she seemed happy with her new life.”

“I hope so.” Jaime stated

The siblings stood there talking for some hours, Jaime truly loved Tyrion as a brother and now was assured he had no part in his son’s murder. Yet some arrangements were still needed to be made.

“I’m going to visit Cersei.” He announced

“Good luck.” Tyrion said sarcastically

“I will need it.” He admitted. “Because I’m breaking up with her.”

* * *

Quentyn

_“Curse the day I’ve accepted this journey.”_   He thought bitterly as yet another ship refused to take him alongside his companions to Meeren and Daenerys Targaryen. It was almost a year since he left Dorne, and he only was rewarded with death and pain. On the way from Lys to Volantis his ship was attacked by corsairs and his companions Kedry, Ser William Wells and Cletus Yronwood, this last one the heir to Yronwood were slain, now he, alongside Ser Gerris Drinkwater and Ser Archibald Yronwood, was stuck into Volantis. Because of the war at Slaver’s Bay and Meeren abolishing slavery, there were no merchant ships leaving the port and he was getting frustrated.

He spent the last few moons trying to find ships yet he was refused every time, as he was getting frustrated he spotted a Dornishman with the black portcullis over the sand banner, marking his allegiance to House Yronwood.

He silently approached the man, who recognized him immediately.

“Prince Quentyn.”  He said kneeling

“Not here.” He hissed. He was supposed to pass off as a merchant, not as a prince, and nobody knelt to merchants.

He signaled for the man to follow him, as he made his way towards the inn he slept for the time being. Gerris and Archibald both had yet to return from their search for a way to reach Meeren, giving him some time to deal with whoever this man was.

“I bring you a message from Lord Anders Yronwood.” He said, revealing a parchment from his hand.

Quentyn wordlessly took the parchment and begun to read.

> _Quentyn, I write to inform you of the developments in our homeland._
> 
> _Your father’s health has been deteriorating quickly and I regret to inform you that he may not live to see another nameday._
> 
> _Westeros is still at war and the traitorous Daynes broke faith with House Martell and allied with the lions._
> 
> _Your sister has grown restless and clearly isn’t fit to rule and there’s a huge plot brewing at the Sunspear. I can’t disclose details, but I beg you to return to Yronwood, there are a lot of matters that need to be discussed._

As soon as he finished reading the parchment, he turned to see Archibald and Gerris entering the room.

He kept his eyes glued at the letter.

“Gerris, Archibald, change of plans, we are going back to Dorne.” He announced

* * *

?

She woke up from yet another of her different dreams. Her brother and her mother both said this was a gift from the gods, but she disagreed, if anything this was a curse. She could see things which will happen in the future, or things that should’ve happened, sometimes things that already happened. One of those dreams saved her family, she still refused to remember it, as it was one of the worse things she ever witnessed.

Yet her visions were somewhat mysterious and cryptic, and most of time she would only understand what they meant after the actual event occurred. This one was one of her somewhat “less mysterious” dreams she had. She saw ice, and ice only, no living soul, just the unwelcoming winds of winter at her bare skin.

_Now what this means?_

Her first major dream only happened when she was three years, as she saw the water being died red by blood and rubies. Then her second major dream happened a few nights before the first, as she saw the most brutal things being done to her family. Mother said she saved them from this fate, but she sincerely doubted it. A year ago she saw a crown being molten, she only understood what this meant a few moons later.

The degree of her visions and how realistic they were changed in relation to her blood relation to the people she saw. When she foresaw her family’s death the pain was so big it almost sent her into comma, this new vision wasn’t as realistic, but the fact she felt coldness worried her a lot.

She sighed, how the hell she was supposed to interpret that vision?

* * *

 

Beric

“Pull them in.” He barked

The boat’s crew, manned by his fellow members of the Brotherhood without Banners, complied and pulled the two figures, a man and a woman, of the water.  The woman was shivering and clearly in pain, but refused to let go of the man.

“Robb.” Two persons yelled in unison, racing towards the man and kneeling near the duo.

The first figure was a burly crannogman, Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. A few days ago, he paid for the ship to cross him through the Green Fork, but didn’t fully stated his purposes.

The second figure was a girl no older than one and ten, she‘s the daughter of the former Hand of the King, she’s Arya Stark.

Seeing the commotion he turned to Gendry, a blacksmith he found traveling alongside Arya and who was later knighted. “Go fetch some dry clothes and blankets, otherwise they’ll freeze to death.” He commanded.

As Gendry hurried off he turned to Howland Reed. “This is the King in the North?”

“Aye, resembles his mother more than his father but this is Robb Stark.” The crannogman said without taking his gaze of the figure of the man they dragged off the water.

“He lives?”

“Aye, but he’s passed out.”

“What the fuck the King in the North was doing floating in a shield at the Green Fork?” a voice from behind, which he recognized as belonging to Thoros of Myr, asked.

“W-we were betrayed… F-freys… Boltons..Kkar…starks….” the woman said shivering. Causing Howland to lower his head and Arya to grab her by the collar.

“My mother? What about Caitlyn Stark?” she demanded.

The woman just lowered her head. “I’m sorry.” Muttered, causing tears to stream through Arya’s face.

“I assume you are Robb’s queen, Jeyne Westerling.” Howland Reed broke the silence, earning a nod from Jeyne.

Beric then turned to Thoros. “Can you save him?” he asked signaling to Robb.

“Aye, but we need a safer place, he will need a safe place to rest, a Maester would be useful too.”

He then turned to Howland. “I assume you’ll want to take him to your keep.”

Howland just shook his head. “Greywater Watch has no Maester, besides the journey through the swamps would kill him.”

“While I can treat those wounds I’m afraid his health is severely weakened and he can perish if exposed to unhealthy environment, like this ship.”

“What about other Northern Houses?” Beric asked, turning to Howland.

“Too risky, two of our most important bannerman already betrayed us, I’m afraid some others might do the same.” The crannog explained.

“What about your keep, Beric?” Thoros asked

“Blackhaven has a Maester but is landlocked, can Robb survive the march there?” he asked

“In these conditions no, he needs a safe place to rest… what about Starfall?”

“My betrothed’s keep?”

“I’m sorry, but Starfall as in Jon Dayne’s Starfall?” Howland interrupted

“Aye, I’m betrothed to his aunt Allyria, why?”

“Because Jon is Robb’s half-brother, recently he brokered a deal to marry the princess, I don’t think it’s a good idea, he may sell him to the crown.” Howland explained.

“He won’t.” was the weak voice of Jeyne, causing everyone to turn their heads on her. “A sennight before the Twins… Robb received a letter from Jon, he expressed his sympathy towards the loss of his brothers, and offering friendship to Robb.”

“Do you think he was sincere?” Howland asked

“He appeared to be, yet it’s hard to measure just by a letter. What I know is that Robb himself openly expressed his desire to know his half-brother several times.” The Queen explained.

Beric tried to search for his fading memories for anything noteworthy about Jon Dayne, a hard task considering he even forgot how his betrothed looked like.

After a few minutes, he remembered. “He’s trustworthy.”

“Why is that?”

“He loves his family… when about four years ago I visited Starfall, offering to take Jon’s nephew as a page and to meet my betrothed. Jon was one and then; he refused to let his nephew squire for me and threatened me with violence should I ever hurt Allyria.” He said earning a few chuckles from the brotherhood. “If I can remember him loving his family I think we can trust him, most of all Starfall is isolated from wars and can help Robb recover. Should we suspect anything we can always flee to Blackhaven, which is nearby.” He concluded earning approving nods from everyone present.

“To Starfall it is then.”

* * *

Arya

During most of the travel she helped Jeyne to tend to Robb. It was a very pleasant sensation to be close to family again. Ever since his father was beheaded she felt lonely. Gendry was a friend, as closer as family, but still wasn’t the same. She missed everyone, even Sansa, and it hurt to know that she would never be able to say goodbye to her mother, Bran and Rickon. But now she had Robb, she will help him recover and will complete her list.

Due to her somewhat abrasive personality, Beric and Thoros decided to let her on the ship while they spoke with Jon, as they feared she would attack his half-brother’s betrothed.

From the time she spent at King’s Landing, Arya remembered very little about Myrcella, she never spoke to her a lot, mostly because she considered her to be a lot like Sansa. Yet the so called Princess never treated her badly, but she was still daughter of the Queen, and if the rumors were to be believed, product of an incestuous relationship between the evil bitch and her twin, who also happened to attack her father at the capital.

She glanced at Gendry, who guarded the small chamber were she, alongside Jeyne, watched the still unconscious Robb. If the rumors weren’t truthful, he would also be meeting his half-sister today. He said that blood relation or not he would treat her well, as she would be a sister to him, by blood should her father was truly Robert, or by name, should she was a Waters like him.

Her half-brother was born Jon Sand, and she never truly thought about him.  His name was a bit of a taboo subject in Winterfell and she only learned about his existence two years ago, when Robb told her the story of his father and Ashara Dayne. Even though he was Sand, and later Dayne in name she always pictured him as someone looking like her father, mostly because she never saw how Ashara looked like personally.

She heard shuffling footsteps from above, signaling people approaching. It was time to finally met her brother.  Gendry instinctively placed a hand at his sword’s hilt and Jeyne took her eyes off the sleeping form of Robb to glance at the door.

Beric and Thoros entered the room, first, causing Gendry to relax, trailed by three women. Two were clearly sisters, as they had same eye and hair colors and similar features, the third figure however was known by her, Myrcella Baratheon.

The eldest woman was hauntingly beautiful and kneeled to see her face to face. “You look a lot like your father.” She said with a hint of melancholy. “I’m Ashara Dayne, acting Lady of Starfall, you’re welcome here, we are family.” She said reassuringly.

Surprised by the warm welcome she asked aloud. “Where’s Jon?”

“He’s gone…” was just above a whisper and barely understandable, but she glanced at the owner of the voice, a saddened Myrcella Baratheon, with bloodshot eyes.

“He’s gone.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be the long waited Jon PoV and will happen in the same timeline as this one. I appreciate reviews, and I'll try to answer to each one, so please leave a message


End file.
